Waldo was sick. Very sick. In fact, he had pneumonia.
Hoppity had been the one to remind the both of them that he owned a two-bedroom treehouse- literally in a tree- and it was probably a better place to be until Waldo was over it.
So, for the time being, they were living out of Hoppity's home. Waldo was having the worst time.
Waldo was, and had been, hacking and sneezing his lungs out. Hoppity insisted Fillmore put a bowl by his bed because they'd all come to the agreement that bodily fluids were gross. Hoppity also insisted that he didn't want to see his uncle so messed up, which meant Fillmore had to look after him. Not that he really minded.
Waldo coughed and groaned as Fillmore set the bowl on the ground under him and a sandwich on a plate he'd made on his lap.
"Are you okay?"
Waldo shot him a death glare.
"...okay. I brought you a sandwich."
"I'm not hungry."
"You should try 'n eat anyway."
Waldo grunted and shifted onto his stomach. Fillmore patted his back.
"You're a bit of an idiot, you know."
Waldo shot another glance at him, smiling slightly. "Says the one who confused a grenade for a pineapple, in literally rural Wisconsin."
"You didn't have to attack Hoppity and I, you know."
"You could've alerted that you were there first! We're on crime watch!"
Fillmore huffed a laugh. "You're still a bit of an idiot."
"So are you," Waldo sat up and inched closer.
"Don't kiss me on my mouth you're sick."
Waldo made a disappointed noise but placed a kiss to his cheek anyway.
"I'm gonna take a nap," he informed, leaning back down.
"Okay," Fillmore set the sandwich beside his bowl and headed back out without anything else. On the other side of the wall, Hoppity was running his toes and webs through the carpet. He looked up at Fillmore.
"Do you think Waldo's gonna be okay?"
Fillmore shrugged. "He'll be fine. I don't know if we can cure his chronic dumbass syndrome, though."
Hoppity furrowed his brows and blew a raspberry.